Kaz frowned. The Fjerdans must have spies deep in Shu Han or Kerch if they had learned about the drug and Bo Yul-Bayur ’s plans so quickly. “So send some of your agents after him.”
“The diplomatic situation is somewhat delicate. It is essential that our government not be tied to Yul-Bayur in any way.”
“You have to know he’s probably dead. The Fjerdans hate Grisha. There’s no way they’d let knowledge of this drug get out.”
“Our sources say he is very much alive and that he is awaiting trial.” Van Eck cleared his throat.
“At the Ice Court.”
Kaz stared at Van Eck for a long minute, then burst out laughing. “Well, it’s been a pleasure being knocked unconscious and taken captive by you, Van Eck. You can be sure your hospitality will be repaid when the time is right. Now have one of your lackeys show me to the door.”
“We’re prepared to offer you five million kruge.”
Kaz pocketed the pistol. He wasn’t afraid for his life now, just irritated that this fink had wasted his time. “This may come as a surprise to you, Van Eck, but we canal rats value our lives just as much as you do yours.”
“Ten million.”
“There’s no point to a fortune I won’t be alive to spend. Where’s my hat – did your Tidemaker leave it behind in the alley?”
“Twenty.”
Kaz paused. He had the eerie sense that the carved fish on the walls had halted mid-leap to listen.
“Twenty million kruge?”
Van Eck nodded. He didn’t look happy.
“I’d need to convince a team to walk into a suicide mission. That won’t come cheap.” That wasn’t entirely true. Despite what he’d said to Van Eck, there were plenty of people in the Barrel who didn’t have much to live for.
“Twenty million kruge is hardly cheap,” Van Eck snapped.
“The Ice Court has never been breached.”
“That’s why we need you, Mister Brekker. It’s possible Bo Yul-Bayur is already dead or that he’s given up all his secrets to the Fjerdans, but we think we have at least a little time to act before the secret of jurda parem is put into play.”
“If the Shu have the formula—”
“Yul-Bayur claimed he’d managed to mislead his superiors and keep the specifics of the formula secret. We think they’re operating from whatever limited supply Yul-Bayur left behind.”
Greed bows to me. Maybe Kaz had been a bit too cocky on that front. Now greed was doing Van Eck’s bidding. The lever was at work, overcoming Kaz’s resistance, moving him into place.
Twenty million kruge. What kind of job would this be? Kaz didn’t know anything about espionage or government squabbles, but why should stealing Bo Yul-Bayur from the Ice Court be any different from liberating valuables from a mercher ’s safe? The most well-protected safe in the world, he reminded himself. He’d need a very specialised team, a desperate team that wouldn’t balk at the real possibility that they’d never come back from this job. And he wouldn’t be able to just pull from the Dregs. He didn’t have the talent he’d need in their ranks. That meant he’d have to watch his back more than usual.
But if they managed it, even after Per Haskell got his cut, Kaz’s share of the scrub would be enough to change everything, to finally put into motion the dream he’d had since he’d first crawled out of a cold harbour with revenge burning a hole in his heart. His debt to Jordie would be paid at last.
There would be other benefits, too. The Kerch Council would owe him, to say nothing of what this particular heist would do for his reputation. To infiltrate the impenetrable Ice Court and snatch a prize from the bastion of Fjerdan nobility and military might? With a job like this under his belt and that kind of scrub at his fingertips, he wouldn’t need Per Haskell any more. He could start his own operation.
But something was off. “Why me? Why the Dregs? There are more experienced crews out there.”
Mikka started to cough, and Kaz saw blood on his sleeve.
“Sit,” Van Eck instructed gently, helping Mikka into a chair and offering the Grisha his handkerchief. He signalled to a guard. “Some water.”
“Well?” prodded Kaz.
“How old are you, Mister Brekker?”
“Seventeen.”
“You haven’t been arrested since you were fourteen, and since I know you are not an honest man any more than you were an honest boy, I can only assume you have the quality I most need in a criminal: You don’t get caught. ” Van Eck smiled slightly then. “There’s also the matter of my DeKappel.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Six months ago, a DeKappel oil worth nearly one hundred thousand kruge disappeared from my home.”
“Quite a loss.”
“It was, especially since I had been assured that my gallery was impenetrable and that the locks on its doors were foolproof.”
“I do seem to remember reading about that.”